Épée Fencing
by xTheShadowLordx
Summary: ReaderXFrance ONESHOT. France is a better fencer than you


**OK - my first ever fanfic to be posted on here! I'm really excited. just so you know I'm not an épée fencer, only saber, so any incorrect assumptions I may make I'm sorry - I hope you enjoy! By the way...**

**A fencing piste is the same thing as a fencing strip.**

**épée is french for 'sword' and is a common fencing weapon.**

**I don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

The car jostled your equipment as you sped along the road to yet another International fencing competition. You were at to be fencing in the coed at the end you are very proud to represent your home country - this was a big were all so proud to be the clear the number 1 at the fencer in your country. But this is France and you are more nervous than ever. Why were you nervous? Because the past few years you have attended the competition, you were one of the best...

Second only to him. Francis Bonnefoy. The French national champion. He was unbeatable. And every time you faced him, your legs went weak and your head went blank. And he would win, giving you his signature wink as you left the fencing piste. The thought of that wink made your blood boil and your fists clench. Would you ever beat him? You honestly didn't know.

You snapped out of your thoughts as you arrived at the place. Already knowing the whole layout of the building,you quickly reached your destination, getting out your épée fencer was required to have three of the weapons, just in case the electrical apparatus failed, so you had a lot of metal weighing you down.

Just as you had started to warm up, you heard and unfortunately familiar voice behind you.

"you have arrived quite early, Cherie~" you turn around to glare at him. He was a few inches taller than you, with shoulder length wavy blonde hair and a little stubble on his chin, with the blue eyes and a smirk played across his lips. Yep, this was Francis Bonnefoy. He rested his head on his hands and look at you through have closed eyes, making you blush and look away, crossing arms. The look must have given him the desired effect, because he chuckled sweetly.

"Oh, dear (name), you're so innocent." He went up to you and lifted your chin gently. "How about a little match, non?"

"N-no! I-I mean, I haven't even warmed up yet!" You must've been red as a tomato, because your face felt extremely warm.

"Well then, I'll see you at the tournament, ma amour~" he said as he sauntered away. _'Amour?'_ you thought curiously. You only knew enough french to get yourself to your hotel, and you were dreadfully, painfully bad at learning new languages. you hardly knew Pig Latin.

But that didn't matter, Francis had finally left you alone. You had been expecting to bug you until the tournament started. After all, he would usually try. After warming up, you began to look for other things to do, making sure you kept yourself busy, just in case that Frenchman caught you off guard.

* * *

When the time for the tournament's pool plays were to proceed, you were relieved to find out that you would not be fencing Bonnefoy until the actual tournament. You breezed through it all, using your opponent's weaknesses to your advantage. There were people here from all over the globe, but you knew that you were one of the best. Pool plays were over quickly and everyone got a small break. Sitting down, you drank water thirstily.

"Well done, ma Cherie, you've made it past the pools~" He was back. You glared at him.

"Everybody makes it past the pools, Francis." He didn't reply, just smirked. Of course you knew what he really meant - You went through the pool plays without losing. It was time for the real tournament to begin. You weren't worried - yet. In the back of your mind, the previous year's finals replayed - you against that troublesome Frenchman. As always, you had slipped up and made a stupid mistake, and he was quick to take advantage. He would win, and flash you that wink . That stupid, immature, infuriating wink.

"(Name)! You're up!" You snapped out of your thoughts to walk up to the piste. A Spanish man with the name 'Ferdinandez' on the back of his lame faced you on the other side. You set yourself in the onguard position, ready to make your move.

"Ready... Fence!" It took less than three seconds, and you had him. This might not be that bad...

* * *

Your stomach churned once again as you waited, watching Francis fence the albino from Germany. If he won, than it would be final - he would be fencing you.

"Point to my left, Bonnefoy wins 16-5" the judge said.

"NO! THIS IS SO NOT AWESOME! THIS IS CRAP! GILBIRD! WHERE ARE YOU!?" Gilbert Beilschmidt stomped off the fencing floor'looking absolutely frustrated. As humorous as the sight was, it felt as if you were having a reoccurring nightmare. It was time to get this over with. You took Gil's place on the piste and hooked up the electrical equipment.

Even through the mask, you could see Francis' blue eyes sparkling mischievously. You scowled. This time, you would win. You promised yourself that. But as the match started, you didn't know what to do. Your opponent immediately went for your weak spot and lunged, stabbing you with the blade. Score: 1-0.

* * *

_11 points later~_

"The score is 8-4 on my left, you now have a one minute break." You tore off your mask and reached for the water bottle that was handed to you, opening it and drinking thirstily.

"Worn out, Ma Chere? the silky voice snapped you out of your thoughts, and you stubbornly chose not to answer. Francis' voice continued. "Ma Cherie, I have a question...Why don't you actually _fence _me?" THAT made you turn around.

_"What?" _You were surprised by a look of seriousness on his face.

"Look at that -" He pointed to the large TV screen on the wall, replaying your last match with the British National Champion, a blond man with exceedingly large eyebrows. "Why don't you ever fence me like that? You have such ferocity when you face them - But with me, it's like you don't know what to do." You stared up into the Frenchman's eyes. It was true, and you knew it well. But how were you going to explain it to him if you couldn't even explain it to yourself?

"Time's up, contestants please get into your positions!"

* * *

_12 points later~_

"The score is 16-7, Bonnefoy wins the finals!" You yanked your mask off in utter frustration as Francis' previous words echoing in your mind. As you walked back off the strip, you looked back at Francis.

He was winking.

Your head felt as if it were about to explode and your knees went weak. You managed to walk over to your extra equipment where you promptly collapsed on a chair in defeat. After a few minutes, you saw a hand offer you a glass of water. You took it and mumbled your thanks to whomever it was, not even bothering to look up.

"But Ma Cherie, you do not have to look so glum." You knew that voice, and your head snapped up to see that the person with the water was Francis Bonnefoy. Immediately, your mood went sour.

"And why shouldn't I? I've lost to you. _Again._"

"Because, Ma Amour, you will be visiting my house at three o'clock tomorrow. I will be your tutor!" You were stunned by what he said. Him? Give you lessons? No way!

"That's absurd! I'm not going to just go to your home and let you teach _me_ how to fence!" Francis' smirked. _not a good sign..._

"Oh? Is that not enough? He got dangerously close to you. "Do you want something a little...more?"

"NowayinHELL." You glared daggers at the blond.

"Fine, then. Just the fencing, although my offer still stands~ I'll see you at three tomorrow then. Adieu!" He sauntered off without a second glance. You stared after him, noticing-

WAIT. You mentally smacked yourself. Francis did NOT look HOT! _'Crap!' _You thought, looking away._ 'I did NOT just think that...'_

* * *

"What the HELL am I doing..." You stood outside Francis Bonnefoy's large city home, equipment bag rolling behind you. You didn't know what had compelled you to come...But here you were. "Well, then. Might as well get this over with." You said to yourself, walking up to the door and knocking twice.

When Francis opened the door, he saw a very nervous, fidgety (Name). "(Name)! You are late!" He exclaimed, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you. You furrowed your brow.

"It's only 3:02! And your lucky I came at all!" You turned towards him to say more, but you stopped when you looked at him. If you thought he was hot before, in all his bulky fencing gear (_'Which I didn't!' _You thought,) Then right now, Francis Bonnefoy was damn sexy. He was wearing an white, untucked button-up shirt, designer jeans and simple shoes. The outfit was plain, yet also brought out all of the Frenchman's beauty. The man in front of you chuckled.

"Like what you see, Ma Cherie?" You growled, snapping out of your surprise.

"Don't you dare."

"Onhonhonhon, you're cute when you're angry~"

"Shut up. Let's just get this over with, okay?"

Francis looked at you, hurt. "Do you not appreciate what I am doing?" He smirked. "Then I shall_ make_ you enjoy this lesson!" He then grabbed your hand and led you to his training room, a big basement he had converted to a fencing studio when he bought the place. After a quick change into your fencing gear, both of you positioned yourselves on either side of a fencing piste in onguard position. You noticed Francis frown.

"What is it, Francypants?" you asked curiously.

"Everything! Your stance is completely off!" He hurried over to you and reached for your hand from behind, correcting your position. "Really, (Name), you _know_ this..." His actions surprised you - You had never seen him so passionate or dedicated to something before. His arms reached around you and you tensed up. You could feel his chest leaning up against your back, giving off warmth.

"Relax - It's important!" Francis' breath brushed your ear as he instructed you. Unfortunately, this set you even more on edge. _'Does he even know what he's doing to me?'_ You somehow you managed to relax a bit, hoping he couldn't see the blush you felt rising on your face. He stepped away lightly.

"That's better. Now I want you to show me a simple step-lunge attack. Comprendre?" You nodded. Focusing on the blank wall in front of you, you executed the attack perfectly, holding your position. In the corner of your eye, you saw Francis smile. "Good - Magnifique!" He said gleefully. He took his position on the piste. "Again!"

You repeated the attack, but something was different. Francis frowned again. "you lost all your ferocity! Cherie, is it me?"

Frustrated beyond the point of return, you finally broke down.

"Yes! Yes, Francis! _it is you_! Every time I face you in a bout, I don't know what to do! And then I lose, and you give me that awful, infuriating, _wonderful_ wink! Goddammit, Francis, _I love you!"_

You were crying now, your épée on the ground. Even to you, this was unexpected. As you waited for his rejection, Francis stared at you in shock.

Then you felt warm arms wrap themselves around you and you realised that the maddening frenchman had you in a warm, loving embrace. "(Name), It's okay." He pulled away and looked straight into your eyes. "Silly girl, you never realised that I was the one hopelessly in love. Why do you think I bothered you at every tournament?"

If he had anything else to say, he never got to finish. You pulled him into a passionate kiss. He smiled into the kiss and when you pulled away he murmured, "Je T'aime, (Name).

* * *

_EXTENDED ENDING!_

"Bonnefoy wins, 16-15!" You scowled at your new boyfriends wink.

"Looks like I am better than you, ma amour!~"

"Shut. The. Hell. Up."

* * *

**Yaay, It's done! I must say, Francis, not everyone could look that good in fencing gear! XD**

**Anywho, thanks to all who read, and I hope you enjoyed. I KNOW the main character is excruciatingly stubborn, but that's kinda the point. I dedicated this to two friends of mine who, actually, DON'T watch Hetalia...****_Yet..._**

**_And did you notice I put the rest of the BTT in there? And England...-_-_**

**Rate and review and Pocky you will receive! (Virtual Pocky, of course. The real stuff is mine.) KTHXBAI.**


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